


silent patience

by thepilotanon



Category: Silence (2016)
Genre: Angst, Can Be Considered Character x Reader, F/M, Illness/Plague, OFC Has No Physical Description/Coloring, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Reader Is Given a Role To Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:41:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27612230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepilotanon/pseuds/thepilotanon
Summary: She waits for him to return to her, and yet, the Lord had other plans.
Relationships: Francisco Garupe/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> warning: Depiction of Catholic Faith; Mild sexual content, illness/plague symptoms, death.

“You are going where?”

His long fingers combed through her hair, his lips pressed to her neck in the most eased touch that sent her heart fluttering like a bird’s wing. She couldn’t resist but to sigh at the touch and melt closer to his warm body cocooning her with the thing blanket on her bed. The monastery never had proper beds, but it kept her warm with the straw mattress and another body to share it with, so she never complained about it whenever her love arrived during the time when the moon was high and embraced her. When Francisco Garupe kissed her skin and brought her near to the most beautiful height of pleasure and Heaven blending together, she nearly missed his news being whispered under his breath.

Lifting his head, both of her hands cradling him to look at her, she met his tired, wise eyes. He took a deep breath and brought the thin sheet over both of their naked bodies to trap their warmth and keep her comfortable.

“Japan,” he finally spoke in a soft voice, the hand in her hair pushing a lock away from her damp forehead. “You remember Father Ferreira, yes, Salome?”

“Of course,” she whispered, her brows furrowing when he gave her a soft kiss to her lips in a sort of reward of her memory. How could she forget him? He was the one who found Garupe, Salome and their other companion, Sebastiao, from the streets and brought them home.

“There are rumors of him committing apostasy during his mission, and so Sebastiao and I plan to travel and find him to see the truth,” he informed her with the confidential information. “We already have a guide and a course set to find him. It should not be that long of a journey.”

“How long?”

Lifting himself to his elbows, Garupe touched her cheek with his fingertips, as if carving them to memory as the many psalms he memorized as well since childhood. She recognized how his expression was serious and careful, yet he wasn’t going to let his emotions get the best of him for the upcoming departure - she knew him better. She knew he was going to be leaving very soon, and he couldn’t leave the Macau College without saying goodbye to her in secret.

“I am not sure,” he confessed and Salome’s jaw clenched with worry. “I promise you that I will be safe. Sebastiao will be with me as well, and the stories tell that there are many Christians over in Japan who will be willing to help in our mission.”

“I do not want you to leave me, Garupe,” Salome frowned. “I know that it is very selfish of me to say so, but I have never been gone from you for so long with you so far away.”

“It will be fine,” he assured her with a small smile, touching her pout with his thumb. “Do you not have faith in me, my lovely Salome?”

“I do,” she puffed at him and he chuckled warmly at her break of being stern, just like they were children and he would tease her when she was trying to be serious. “My faith in you is as strong as my faith in Him, you know this very well.”

“I do know this very well.” Leaning down, Garupe brushed his lips against her own as he used his hand to part her legs once more to settle his hips between them. He kissed her softly, easing all her sorrows for the time being while he coaxed Salome’s body to relax for him once more for their forbidden dance. “Please, allow me to spend my time with you, my love, before I have to be away from you.”

“So long as you promise to return to me,” Salome sighed and wrapped her legs around him.

“As always, I will return to where my heart is, in the field of flowers by the sea in our dreams,” he promised as he held her close one more time.

* * *

“Sister Salome, you do not look well…”

Salome jumped softly when her fellow Sister touched her shoulder whilst doing her chores of watching the children play in the courtyard. For a moment, she felt herself doze out for a moment, her eyes blurring the image of the two little girls twisting strands of grass together into a colorful mess of confusion, and she couldn’t get out of it for a moment. Once feeling the gentle tap on her shoulder, a wave of dizziness pulled her out and she became frightened by being caught on the job. Salome had no idea what happened, but she instantly felt guilty.

“I apologize, forgive me,” she responded softly. A child ran past her and she was quick to remind the little boy to be mindful of the little holes he could get his foot caught in. All while fixing the boy’s shirt and hair, the other dressed Sister noticed the younger woman’s slow, shaky hands.

“You are not yourself, child,” the older woman pointed out as Salome let the boy scamper off. “Are you still worried of Father Garupe and Father Rodrigues? You know of their mission to take time.”

“I understand,” Salome nodded with a tight smile. “And I pray every Mass and every morning and night of their safe travels since they left. I am not worried of the two, they are very devoted members of the College, Sister. The fact that I have counted a few months is proving to me of their dedication.”

“I know, ever since you and Father Garupe came to us as such little children, the spiritual bond of the Lord between you two is very strong,” Sister said softly, noticing the slight change in Salome’s eyes - a sort of tiredness. “Why don’t you go and fetch yourself a drink, my dear. I will watch over the young ones until you return.”

“Yes, Sister.” Salome rose to her feet with grace and only took one step before the world turned to melting candle wax. She could barely register the sound of her name as stars littered her sight and wet sand filled her body, all while she seemed to have fallen asleep in the daytime.

* * *

Once she woke, Salome recognized her own secluded chambers as her surroundings. The sound of children chattering from the opened window of her room, the young Sister felt her whole body ache mysteriously all with just a turn of her head. Confusion riddled her face as the door opened, and the older Sister who was with her only seconds ago entered with a bowl of water. It was then that Salome realized that she was stripped of her veil and band, as well as her guimpe; her hair splayed over her bed with evidence of sweat, making her all the more confused as the older Sister sat on the stool at her bedside and placed a wet rag to her forehead.

Salome gasped at the chilly sensation of water on her head, her teeth chattering as she tried to push it off. Her hands felt heavy, resulting in her defense to slide against her face and be pushed away by the Sister in a scolding manner.

“You are with _fever_ ,” she explained in a hushed tone, pinning Salome’s hand to her chest, right where her beloved rosary she constantly wears rested over her hear. “Be still and let the water assist you.”

“It was sudden… I did not feel it until I stood on my feet, Sister,” Salome tried to explain with reason, and the older woman hummed a soft coo and brushed a wet strand off her face. “ _The children_. Are the children -?”

“They were startled, but I assured them all that you were not in any danger. Just a little bump to your arm,” she offered as she lifted Salome’s stiff arm and carefully peeled back her sleeve, revealing the forming bruise peppered on her skin. “The heat and thrill of waiting for news of Father Rodrigues and Father Garupe must have gotten to you, child. Such a sweet girl, please rest and worry not.”

“I am not worried,” Salome giggled at the older Sister’s open thoughts. Feeling the older woman’s comb through her hair, she closed her eyes and attempted to relax her quick heart; easing to the idea that the sun has gotten to her and made her faint, Salome went to sleep in her safe haven that He gave her to see her beloved Garupe.

* * *

She wasn’t getting better.

Her fever made her slumber difficult with the coming days spanning to weeks, Salome eventually fell into fits of coughs and random spasms that made her cry. All while aware as the Sister and Head Priest came to her aid and even fashioned the village’s doctor to see her, she was only told that she must pray and leave the rest to His hands. Water became sour to her tongue, and food only sometimes remained in her belly. A scrap of cloth draped the sun from filtering in her room on hotter days, allowing cold breeze in to try and ease her sweating body into the night of sleepless stress and _praying_. Her left hand continued to hold the cross resting on her chest, thumb stroking the carving to bring her to a peaceful trance every once in a while.

The elder Sister tended to her needs hourly, feeding her and changing the rag with cool water that the Head Priest began blessing after each turn. Salome would try to engaged in conversations with her, trying to find out if there has been news of the two priests across the sea…

“I want to tell Father Rodrigues of the little boys practicing their sermons,” Salome mumbled with the memory of tutoring a group of children. Four particular boys looked up to her friend, and she promised to teach them Latin quotes to surprise Sebastiao Rodrigues upon their return. “He would be very proud of them with how fluent they sound, almost like _angels_ …”

Salome would smile when she heard the children recite prayers outside her room, near the courtyard where she was stationed during her illness so she could still listen to them. The children who lived in the monastery absolutely adored Sister Salome as much as they loved the traveling Fathers who were currently absent. She had that influence of a motherly touch to ease any crying child with just her voice, or encouraging others to be honest with Him in their time of need. Many who worked knew this, so the secret news of Salome falling ill has been hard for the other Sisters to keep from the children who seek her attention.

“Indeed they sound like little angels, Sister,” the older woman agreed as she parted the cut of Salome’s underdress to press a wet rag to her sweating skin. “They are planning to practice _thrice_ as often for _you_ , even reciting during meals after blessing. It is quite a sight.”

“I cannot wait to go see them,” Salome sighed dreamily, her lips parting to a toothy, sleepy smile. “I will surprise them, holding flowers from the courtyard and pin one to each child. I feel so terrible for being stuck in bed, but I can’t move so well.”

The Sister kept quiet as Salome began humming offkey, feeling her heart hammering in her chest and the soft wheezing in her breathing as she set the rag along her sternum. The sick woman didn’t even register the cold chill, her eyes gazing to the ceiling with a sort of longing as her fingers reached for her rosary.

“Garupe made me this, Sister,” Salome slurred, her dry lips laxing to a small pout. “It was a gift for my first communion as an official Sister.”

“I remember, child,” the Sister nodded slowly with a small smile.

“Garupe made me this, and I treasure it. I pray with it all the time and keep it with me.”

“You do. I have seen it,” the Sister said softly, her eyes watering a bit when Salome looked up to her with an intoxicated grin. “You are such a sweet girl, my child.”

“I am?” Salome asked, her fever overriding her thoughts to memories of when she was a small girl, and the very same Sister who tutored her would tell her as a compliment for doing well in her duties.

The Sister nodded. “Yes, you are. The Lord sees it and whispers it to my ear every time. How you are such a sweet girl with a beautiful heart.”

“I thank the Lord for being so kind,” Salome hummed, her eyes closing. “Sister, when may I see Garupe? I haven’t seen him in _so long_.”

The Sister frowned and carefully reached her wrinkled hand to rest atop of Salome’s clammy ones. Hearing the younger woman’s shaky exhale before falling into her fever sleep, the Sister swallowed hard.

* * *

Salome was starting to see red.

Whenever she coughed into her hand or the sleeve of her underdress, she would see the weird spots decorating her skin and clothes in intricate patterns. Sitting up in a daze after one of her intense coughing attacks, Salome stared with critical eyes as the Sister attempted to clean up as much as possible while reciting her prayers of the day to her, expecting the younger one to follow along as best as she could. The second bowl of water she brought in was tinted pink, and Salome would look between her sticky hands and the bowl at the end of the bed with concern as the rags carefully dabbed against the unknown blotches. She was confused.

“Sister,” Salome whispered after the old woman finished her prayer, “did I spill the wine on myself?”

When the Sister didn’t answer, Salome felt her eyes grow heavy with boiling tears. “Oh, Father, _please_ forgive me for spilling the blood of your son,” she mumbled with pure sadness. “I do not know how it happened, and I beg for your forgiveness. Please, _don’t hate me, Father_.”

“Salome, the Lord does _not_ hate you!” Sister interjected, taking the sick woman’s face in her hands and have her turn her way. “The Lord always forgives you, sweet child. _You did nothing wrong!_ ”

“Please, _forgive me_ ,” Salome sobbed, her eyes hazy. “Please, Father. I don’t want to burn in Hell, I did not mean to spill the Son’s blood to commit sin. I did not want to commit sin, please forgive me…”

The Sister wiped away the tears before forcing Salome to lay down in her stained bed. Returning to her work, the old woman hushed her cries as gentle as she could while cleaning her weakening body. Salome laid there with eyes filled with tears, staring at the ceiling with her hands curled around the rosary still attached to her body, holding it as tight as she can. Instead of forcing her to release her treasured possession, the Sister instead cleaned around her knuckles and fingers before moving to clean her dry lips stained with blood.

“ _Sister_ …”

“Yes, my sweet child?”

“ _Where is my Garupe_?”

Stilling her elderly hand, the Sister looked to the ill woman’s face weeping. The old woman reached for the first bowl still soaking water, wringing out the access water before pressing the cold rag to Salome’s hot forehead. Stopping a fresh tear with her thumb, Sister sat back in her stool as she watched helplessly as Salome fell into another hallucination. She had told the news to the young woman many times, but now she couldn’t bring herself to repeat it any longer. Not to the woman who had her fate sealed to her bones…

 _ **She couldn’t tell Salome again**_.

“Father Garupe will return soon to you, sweet child,” the Sister told her, resting her palm ontop of the rag on Salome’s forehead.

“And Rodrigues will get to see the boys’ singing to him? I will get to see the children again and have meals with them once more?” Salome asked in a slur, yet manageable to understand.

The Sister nodded with unshed tears in her eyes. “Yes, of course.”

Lifting her left hand, Salome presented her rosary with a weak smile. “Garupe made me this rosary, Sister… I treasure it.”

The Sister returned the smile, although tight, she couldn’t resist giving it to her one more time. “You do, sweet child.”

* * *

Salome opened her eyes with something large and firm in her hand and something soft against her cheek. Although it had been a long time, she recounted, she instantly recognized her beloved as she turned to see him pull back from kissing her cheek in greeting. Sitting up in the soft grass, the woman gasped in excitement at seeing Garupe smile at her with the slight mischievousness she remembered seeing as a child. His arms opening for her, Salome was quick to jump into his embrace and cling to him tightly.

“Hello, my lovely Salome,” Garupe whispered to her and the woman let out a tearful sob. His hand coming up to cradle the back of her head as the other caressed her back. The sound of his voice and the warmth of his hands and body made her cry, and he chuckled so softly. “I have been waiting to return to you for so long.”

“ _I have missed you_ ,” Salome whimpered, burying her face into his shoulder before pulling back to drink in the sight of him. His clothes weren’t pressed or tight against him, as she was used to seeing him wear during the day; his blouse was white and open, almost like his sleepwear, and his hair wasn’t combed back behind his ears. He looked different, but still the same man she loved with all her heart.

Smiling in relief, Salome kissed both of his cheeks and then his nose, his forehead, between his brows and then taking his hands to kiss his knuckles. Tears fell down her cheek as she did so, and Garupe watched her unashamed while being so out and public with their affections.

The field was covered with pure green grass and many flowers dotting around, and it took a moment for her to hear the crashing waves in the distance. Salome’s spine straightened as she looked over to see the ocean not too far away.

Feeling Garupe touch her loose hair, Salome blinked in confusion. “As I have promised you, my love, I will return to where my heart rests in the field by the ocean,” he whispered into her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Peeling her eyes away from the beautiful sea, Salome looked to her hands clutching Garupe’s clothes. Her knuckles weren’t dry as she remembered last, nor did she see the red stains on her own clothing or skin. Her hair seemed untangled and clean and she didn’t feel any sort of sweat dripping down her skin. It was all coming back to her, how she fell down and laid in her bed for so long. All while the Sister coaxed her repeatedly to relax and let the breeze keep her sane…

“I was…” Salome blinked, and a new layer of tears welled her eyes as Garupe’s smile dropped a bit. “I am _sick_. Garupe, I fell sick while you were gone… I was sick with fever, a-and I couldn’t feel better for so long. I-I am suppose to be in bed, like Sister said.”

“You _were_ sick, Salome,” Garupe agreed, as if he knew exactly what she was talking about. His hands coming up to cup her cheeks, he tilt her chin up to meet her worried eyes with his patient ones. “Do not fret, my love. It is all safe now, as He willed it to us. He did not mind of our…relationship that we’ve kept secret from the others.”

“He…” Her eyes widening, Salome then grasped his face with fear. “Garupe, w-what happened to you? Garupe, please, _what happened_?”

His dark eyes softening, Garupe gave her a charming smile as he stroked her cheeks and gave her a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I did my best to save them, but I have failed in succeeding. They were drowning them, and I couldn’t stop it.”

“Garupe?” Salome peeped with a little hiccup as he hushed her.

“I waited for you to arrive, my love, and I am so sorry that you had to suffer for so long,” he whispered against her skin. “How much I ached to be there and hold you during your pain, but we are together again, and that’s all I could ever beg for with my last breath in the mortal world.”

Slowly accepting what has happened, Salome leaned her weight on him and held on to him. The reality of her situation was daunting, yet a part of her couldn’t complain of how truly happy she was being in his arms again and feeling him after so long. It was almost as if the two were free from their limits of the Monastery rule forbidding their relationship, keeping it secret for years and now to being allowed to roam free and in love as they always dreamed of being. Pulling back with a newfound excitement, Salome carefully grasped Garupe’s face with her healed hands and brought him down far enough to press her lips against his, feeling and tasting what she had missed and longed for since their last encounter as he eagerly returned it. His hands holding and molding to her form as they acquainted themselves through kisses and smiles and tears.

Both were truly in Paradise.


	2. ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: Depiction of Catholic Faith; Illness/plague symptoms, death.

Francisco Garupe knew he was going to die as soon as he got into the water. He knew death would claim him for his actions in trying to save the last prisoner - for what, he couldn’t explain. He just had to _try_ , to prove that he wouldn’t stop from innocent Christians - _innocent people_ \- die any longer in attempt to renounce his faith. He felt himself being drawn by instinct, by Heaven, to pull one last action to show that he would not fall to his knees. And, by the meaning to save at least one life, he ended up losing the other and his own…

Garupe knew he was dead when he found himself in the courtyard of the monastery, back _home_.

His large hands coming to his chest, Garupe found himself full. No longer emaciated or able to feel his ribs as easily, his nails clean of dirt and clothes of comfortable trousers and a loose shirt that he could only ever see himself wear only within his own chambers. Any cuts or bruises he remembered counting over and over to pass time in his capture were erased, as if cleaned away with water. Swallowing, Garupe looked along the courtyard to all the children running about, singing and playing in the sunshine as everything looked to be as the same way he left it with Rodrigues so long ago.

“One moment, dear! You are going to trip!”

Garupe spun around at the sound of _her_ voice. The same voice he dreamt about every night on his mission to look for the Father who brought the trio together as small children; the voice of a woman he could only find himself dreaming useless desires of living the simple life, form a family in their own little home in the village, perhaps a farm or tutoring school. Garupe felt himself grow heavy in the legs at the sight of his beloved Salome arranging a small boy’s shirt, a gentle smile on her lips as she fixed the boy’s hair while informing him of the small holes in the tiled ground that could harm him.

Her soft hands resting on the child’s shoulders for a moment, Garupe held back a cry of her name when he saw the older Sister - her superior - notice something that he hadn’t. Something wrong, but he didn’t know what. To him, even as she sat on the stone ledge of the courtyard with her uniform on, her secrets hidden, Salome only looked as beautiful and perfect in his eyes as she always have been.

“Why don’t you go and fetch yourself a drink, my dear. I will watch over the young ones until you return,” the Sister suggested in a gentle voice, as if urging Salome to take a moment to herself. In comparison to how the older woman treated Garupe and Rodrigues as children, she was so much more gentle with Salome, who was an absolute troublemaker and stubborn little girl. Garupe always feared the older Sister, yet he knew she had that maternal bone dedicated for his secret love specifically.

Seeing Salome look up to her - Garupe remembering that he was now invisible - he watched her smile timidly before nodding. “Yes, Sister,” she agreed as she pushed herself up to her feet.

Garupe watched Salome take one step, seeing her face fall to an expressionless haze before paling her expression underneath the sun. His breath caught in his throat, Garupe sprint into a run as Salome fell sideways with a limp body. His hands reaching out to catch her, Garupe screamed out of fright as he watched with terror of his beloved’s body slip right through his ghostly form. The echo of children screaming and the Sister quickly going to Salome’s unconscious form took over the monastery’s walls.

* * *

Standing in the very same bedroom he last saw Salome and spent the night with her, Garupe watched with criticizing eyes as the older Sister left the chambers with the empty bowl and old rags. Leaving the fevered woman alone with her thoughts and the ghost of her lover watching over her boiling body. He was helpless in watching Salome’s legs bend underneath the thin material of a blanket, her whimper drying in her throat as she tried to turn to a better resting position with what little strength she had in the moment; still sore and exhausted of being so hot.

Garupe could remember how often he shared the same, small bed with Salome; how he remembered touching her skin and making her sing like an angel just by using his mouth and hands, the beautiful expressions and passionate tears whenever he gave her his body to give her pleasure in late hours of the night when everyone else was asleep. Sharing tender kisses and sleepy goodbyes before sneaking away to reunite in their occupations during the day…

How much Garupe wished he could lay beside her shaking form and hold her so close, it was absolutely _painful_.

Salome refused to complain to the Sister, or even the Head Priest of the monastery whenever they asked her how she felt. She only smiled tiredly to them and shook her head, asking when they thought she would be well enough to join the children in their morning prayers again or help clean the halls of the chapel. Garupe frowned whenever she did this, seeing the lack of luster in her eyes and the moments she seem to forget where she was for a split second.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Garupe reached out to hover the back of his fingers along Salome’s fevered cheek. Despite the major barrier between him and the mortal world, he could practically feel the fever grow underneath her skin like a new kindling. A fire he knew was going to grow more and more, no matter what they could do to ease the pain with natural remedies and medicines suggested by the village doctor.

A shiver took over Salome and she curled her legs more, her fingers digging into the cushion of the bedding, and Garupe cooed sadly at the way his love’s face twisted in absolute discomfort.

“My lovely Salome,” he whispered softly, hating how she wasn’t able to feel or hear him in any way shape or form. He wanted so much to push her damp hair away from her sweating forehead and press gentle kisses to ease her headache. “Please, _please_ rest, my love. You need to _rest_ …”

He watched Salome use the sleeve of her underdress to wipe against her face, as if trying to rid droplets or ease her sore eyes. The moment she shifts again to lay on her back once more, Garupe noticed the seam along her sternum unlaced and pulled open for the Sister to place the wet rags during the sessions of trying to ease the heat hidden inside her. He could see the rosary that she refused to take off, making his lips twitch to almost smile.

By some miracle of his pleas, Salome closed her eyes and fell asleep in some sort of peace, his hands phantomly drifting up and down her curves and arms, letting her breathe through her nose and mouth. Looking up to the high ceiling, Garupe waited for some sort of message from anyone who could hear him…

“Is this _punishment_?” he questioned coolly, his eyes soft with understanding of his own faults. “For…everything I’ve done against the code, you punish me to watch her suffer? I dedicate my life, and for the single temptation I couldn’t go without is now my own hell?”

There was no answer, and he did not expect any. “You must understand, Lord, that she is not a _temptation_ … Salome and I have been with one another since we were children. She suffered as much as I, and shared many struggles before we both gave our lives to the church. We are faithful to you, and _you know this_. Please… _please_ , do not punish her. You must understand that it was fate by your hands, not evil or sin. It had been accepted by Father Ferreira in the altar.”

Feeling tears form in his eyes, Garupe looked down to the sleeping woman. “Please…let her rest.”

* * *

Days continued on and Garupe was left without the need to eat, to sleep or even move to contain blood flow. He managed to learn more about what he became after drowning, things that he found useful to his knowledge while he watched Salome’s fever rise to the point that she couldn’t register which was day or night or feel the cold water against her skin. His hands would ghost over her form repeatedly, hoping to somehow let her know of his presence - _his spirit_ \- is right there with her. Garupe would speak softly to her, as if she could hear, of one sided conversations that were so open that he often found himself crying by the time he watched her fall asleep once again from her exhaustion.

His long fingers tracing the shape of her naked ankle, Garupe watched as Salome admired the rosary he gifted her on her first communion as an official nun from years ago. He loved how she refused to let it go, even in her illness, praying with a small smile as her thumb touched the curves of the stained wood.

“I have often dreamed of a simpler life with you, my love,” he confessed to her with a sad smile. “We would still be who we are, but they would let us have children…”

Looking up to the ceiling, Garupe laid down beside the sick woman he craved to comfort in any way he could. “I’ve dreamt of our children…both a son and daughter. They would be _beautiful_ , like you, my love, with no possible flaws. I wouldn’t want either of them to have my ears or blemishes, but they would have my hair that you would love to groom and tuck back to kiss their heads. I would lift them in my arms and make them fly like birds.”

Turning his head to see Salome stare through him, her dry lips parted to breathe, he exhaled softly and traced his knuckle along her hallowing cheek. “Our children would crawl into our bed to sleep with us, making it difficult for me to touch you the way I love to. Any moment I attempt to have you bare and pleasure you, they would fly in and climb upon us for attention,” he chuckled at the idea. “But, despite that, I would still manage to have you in different places, where we wouldn’t be disturbed and no one would shame us of our love.

“I would _hold your hand_ on our walks,” he continued softly, Salome’s eyes fluttering for a moment as she tried to keep her composure to stay awake. “ _Kiss you_ and watch you without abandon as we go about our days and duties with our colleagues. Sebastiao would love playing with our children… Teach them psalms and tell stories.”

Salome’s bleary eyes closed out of exhaustion, and he rolled closer to allow his nose to “touch” against the tip of hers. Pretending to be able to feel her skin with his fingers as he hovered his lips over hers, he sighed. “You would be a _perfect mother_ , my love. I have dreamt of it so many times while sleeping beside you, I had to confess in silence every time I went back to my own room,” he told her with a sad smile. “But, surely you’ve dreamt of them as well at some point. Perhaps you dreamed of our children with my ears, because you always tell me how much you love them.”

Watching her fall into slumber, her breathing sounding like rough winds within the bell tower of the monastery, lips parted as her fingers fell limp against the sheet, Garupe swallowed thickly. “Dream of our children, my lovely Salome. Dream of them, and let our children help you relax from all your aches and pains with their smiles and kisses.”

Garupe then turned his gaze up to the ceiling, silently speaking to God for some sort of conversation or answers to his unsaid questions and pleas for mercy.

* * *

Red was symbolic to the color of blood. Blood of His son’s sacrifice on the cross for all to be forgiven, therefore the color symbolizes the martyrs of those who sacrificed their own lives for the better of others…

But, as soon as the very color of Christ spilled from his beloved’s lips in her first fits of coughs, Garupe couldn’t feel any sort of forgiveness of the Lord once seeing how it stained her body and bed.

It was _unexpected_. Salome sat up on her bed once she awoke from her slumber and coughed once - and it soon turned into her unable to breathe properly as mouthfuls of her life dripped down her chin and down her body. Tears filled her eyes as she tried to inhale through her mouth, choking on the iron-flavored liquid as she gripped at her chest blindly. Garupe, out of his own nerves, rushed to try and help her, only to let out a roar of frustration when his hands phased through her struggling form as she tried to scramble out of bed. He felt himself tear up at remembering again that he couldn’t do anything.

As soon as her failing feet touched the stone floor, Salome collapsed with a bruising fall to her knees, her hands clawing at her throat before she let out a horrible shriek that shattered his own heart. Her spine bending forward as she gagged once more, Garupe could only watch helplessly while Salome threw up one more mouthful before the door was thrusted open.

The Sister rushed to Salome as the sick woman reached out to hold onto her robes, staining the white lining of the sleeves as she pulled the elder woman down. Salome attempted to speak through her mouth, blood dribbling thickly from her pout as she cried. The Sister did her best to try and hush her blood-curdling cries and push her back towards her ruined bed to lay down, but Salome blindly reached to the collar of the nightdress she wore to still her.

“ _Where is he_?” Salome croaked out through her sobs. “ _Where is my Garupe_?”

Garupe didn’t stop his own cries as he sunk to his knees beside the two, his head shaking as his bottom lip trembled. “I’m _right here_ , my love… _I am sorry_.”

Sister only huffed and pushed back Salome’s sweaty locks from her face, holding her cheek on her palm as she used her now-ruined nightgown to begin cleaning the younger woman’s face. “ _Shh_ , you are _alright_ ,” she lied with a sad smile. “Father Garupe will be home soon, my sweet child.”

“I am scared,” Salome cried out, trying to push the Sister’s attempt to help her away. She tried to stand once more, only to result the same of falling down. “I want Garupe! _I’m scared_! Please, _please_ get Garupe!”

The dead priest sobbed as he reached a hand out for her outstretched one, only for the Sister to pull her back and drag her to the bed. He barely registered the other nun passing by for assistance, and ignored how the Sister ordered the other to fetch rags and as much water as possible with Salome breaking down with more cries.

“Salome, stop this,” the Sister chided desperately while the sick woman attempted to fight back. Pinning her red hands back on the bed, the Sister caught her breath as she stared Salome down to submission. “Father Garupe is not here. He is _not here_ , you know this! _Listen to yourself, child_!”

“I want my Garupe,” Salome sobbed. “I want my Garupe with me… I am scared.”

“I know, I know,” Sister hushed her, petting her matted hair as the patient began to shiver from the aftermath of the episode. “I _know_ you are scared, sweet child, but you know Garupe is not here. You must relax now.”

“I am cold. I want my Garupe,” she responded, her gaze staring upward with no focus. “Garupe is warm… He always keeps me warm.”

He watched as Sister took a careful breath, her aged fingers continuing to comb through her hair as she carefully shook her head. “I know. I know he kept you warm, darling.”

“I want my Garupe.”

The priest climbed to the edge of the bed, his face still wet and desperate for any signs of being able to touch her, to let her know that he wanted nothing more than to hold his only love in his arms. He felt his soul being torn apart as he tried again and again to hold her hand just once, only to fade through like a ghost. Garupe let out another angered roar as he yanked on his own hair, jumping up to pace around and yell towards the Heaven to be free of this painful event following his death. He couldn’t bear it any longer, being unable to touch or help the one he loved most in her most vulnerable, last state of life.

The Sister slid her hand underneath Salome’s heavy head, pulling her to her chest as she waited for the nun to come back with needed supplies. “I know he kept you warm, my poor, sweet child.”

* * *

“I have the distaste for my name. Francisco is the name of my father who bedded my mother, yet I never met him; he left without word to my mother before she birthed me, yet she still named me after him with her surname.”

The sun filtered into the room as Garupe laid next to Salome on the bed that used to be their own sanctuary. The breeze flowed through the makeshift curtain to the small window provided to the tiny, musty chamber, yet Garupe couldn’t feel anything in his current form. He only hoped that the dying woman beside him could relish some sort of the soft winds and sunlight highlighting her pailing body and her sunken face. Despite her physical form of her illness, he couldn’t help but think of her as the most beautiful woman on earth. Garupe had no trouble telling her this whenever she was awake (albeit, remained unheard), even if now he feels just as empty as her face revealed, his love was still strongly bound to her no matter what.

Now, with Salome asleep under the single layer of the blanket provided to her, her breathing so quiet and cracked that it almost reminded him of ocean waves, Garupe found himself spending his time confessing his true troubles and thoughts and memories to no one in particular.

“I remember when we were children, and the monastery called me _Francisco_ ,” he sighed. “You became so full of _fire_ with them and _demanded_ that they respected my wish to be called only by Garupe. I remember feeling my heart fly when you did so, saying my name like a song of a lonely singer… I even loved you with all my soul back then.”

Closing his eyes, Garupe bit his lip for a moment. “Even so, loving you, I could _never_ see us leaving the church, no matter how much I wanted to live that life. I would not be able to provide you with any talent outside of being a priest. We wouldn’t live an easy life, yet I know you would stay with me…like when we were children, living in the streets together.

“I know I would love you, no matter what life we would have had together, my lovely Salome,” Garupe confessed softly, whispering as if he was praying to himself. “No matter, _I would love you_ with everything in my power, even in sickness and in health. I only wish I could let you know that I am here with you, my love. I would _never_ let you believe I couldn’t come back to you.”

Salome’s waking moments were of her coughing up blood and shaking, begging to whoever was near to help her as they passed by her marked door. Garupe remained still as he watched her transformation of losing color and shine to her body, her ribs protruding more evident as her belly sank and limbs thinning, all to remain by her side as dedicated as he was in doing the Lord’s work, as he was in traveling to Japan with his friend to find his mentor…

But how he ached to kiss the bruises under her eyes away. To warm her sensitive skin with his fingers and lips and have her cry a different way of pleasure rather than pain. How much he wanted to whisper his love into her ear and heartbeat, and take away all her pain onto his own body so that she may see the children and other sisters who adore her so much. He wanted to stop it all, just for him to take it all away and let the world be at peace for her sake!

Feeling himself space out for a moment, Garupe almost didn’t register the scent of salty water reach his nose and the light tickle of his hair against his cheeks from the breeze, causing him to snap his eyes open. Sitting up, Garupe realized that the bedding he was once laying on was replaced with tall grass and little budding flowers cushioning his body.

Looking forward, his eyes grew wide at the sight of the never-ending sea in the distance, all with the natural sounds of nature of distant birds and waves under a cliff a ways away from the beach. Twisting around, Garupe nearly fell at the way Salome’s body was back to its original form of being full and healthy; the color of her skin returned to a blossoming hue and blush in her new, clean dress that replaced her bloodstained one. Her lips plush and soft as all the bruises to her face vanished like dust, her small hand resting on the rosary he gifted her years ago.

With a shaking hand, Garupe reached to the woman’s other that was resting against the grass with ease. With a moment of hesitating, he slipped his long fingers into her palm, feeling her pulse and warmth of her body against his like he remembered - far better than he remembered from what felt like an eternity ago. His large hand encasing hers, Garupe held back tears as he watched Salome take an easy, smooth intake of breath and turn her head to the side with a sigh.

Looking up to the clear sky - a type he has never seen before but only dreamed with her - Garupe hears the voice _finally_ responding to him that caused his hand around Salome’s to tighten with gratefulness.

A wet smile spreading along his face, Garupe whispered a small thanks before bending down to finally press a kiss to his only love’s cheek to rouse her from sleep.

##  _**In a field of flowers by the sea in your dreams.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: The point of Garupe’s experience wasn’t as punishment, but because his spirit couldn’t stay away from Salome spiritually until they could reunite c:

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: The reader’s character name, Salome, comes from the New Testament of a daughter who seduced John the Baptist and cut off his head. Her name represents “peace”.
> 
> Another fun fact: As the film takes place in mid-1600s, I have it that both Garupe and Salome came from the streets before being taken in by Ferreira and the Sister. Despite growing up in the Monastery and being in a intimate relationship, Garupe and Salome take their duties seriously.
> 
> And another fun fact: Salome was friends with Rodrigues, although probably not as close as Garupe and him. I see all three of them being the Three Musketeers as children.


End file.
